If Only
by Blackbirdflies
Summary: The Pianist One Shot. A late night conversation between brothers. War, music and women. Wladek is yearning.


I wanted to know more about Wladek and Henryk's relationship as brothers, as well as their thoughts about women. So I wrote about it.

Disclaimer: I am not writing about the 'real' people, I am writing about their characters as portrayed in the movie (The Pianist). I do not own the plot, characters, or anything of that sort. I am not looking to make a profit off of this story.

The song that I listened to on repeat while writing this story:

**The Piano - Michael Nyman**

* * *

Every time he placed his fingers upon those ivory keys, a calm would wash over him. The music would always soothe his nerves, no matter what was happening around him. A bomb could be threatening his life (as they had seemed to be doing quite frequently) and he would continue to play with such passion that his fingers would ache with the strain.

Yet, the audience would always think that he played with ease. Usually he did, since years of vigorous training had left his hands able to play for hours on end. He could remember being five years old, playing scales up and down the keys for two hours straight. No one in his house had wanted to hear another C scale for as long as they lived.

Most of the time his family was supportive of his choice of career. Being a pianist for the Warsaw radio was nothing to scoff at. Yet Henryk (his brother) tended to yell at him when he composed late into the night.

"Stop playing the fucking piano Wladek! That noise is not a masterpiece!"

Of course it wasn't a masterpiece. At least, not yet. Composing was his favourite thing to do. As he wrote his notes upon paper he envisioned years of pianists playing his music to crowds of eager people. The love of music was what he desperately wanted to pass on.

That day many things had happened to Wladek. He had been playing piano at the station when a bomb had gone off. Moments later he had run into the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. And now, he was sitting in front of his worn yet tenderly cared for piano: hands shaking.

Their future was leaning over a cliff, watching the waves crash against the rocks below. Their footing was threatened by the push of the Nazi's at any second. No Jew knew what was to happen, but they all tried to keep their heads high. Persecution of the Jews was nothing new and everyone hoped that it would pass over quickly.

Of course, it wasn't just the Jews who were being killed. It was everyone who happened to not be of the pure Aryan race. The murders were unspeakably horrid; the papers were censored with propaganda.

Wladek sighed and pushed his fingers into the keys of his piano, listening to the unorganized sound of crushed notes.

"What are you doing?"

He turned his head to the doorway where the silhouette of a man was standing. Henryk, his only and most stubborn brother was leaning against the doorframe, staring at him in fake annoyance. Wladek could tell that he wanted to talk, but they had never been very adept at communication, (being brought up as emotion concealing males).

"Trying to play piano."

"Then play."

"It's difficult."

Henryk walked to the corner of the room by the front window, sitting down in an armchair. He stretched out and scratched his head. Wladek could tell that he hadn't slept in awhile from the dark bags under his eyes. He knew that Henryk had been stressing about the money situation lately.

"I've heard that they want to put us into ghettos soon." Henryk said solemnly, turning his head towards the window and staring blankly into the street. It was dark outside and the lights were beginning to turn out in the neighbour's houses.

Wladek didn't reply to his comment. Instead he plucked out a simple tune with his left hand.

"Mom's going to sleep." Henryk then said.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"What do you want Henryk?"

"I hear you're becoming friendly with Dorota."

Wladek turned to face his brother, leaning his back against the keys.

"She's a very beautiful woman." He replied, picturing her face in his mind. She played the cello…. They could play wonderful duets together.

"Yes, but she's also blonde haired and blue eyed."

"What does that matter?"

"She'll get hurt for being with you Wladek."

Wladek closed his eyes slowly, rubbing his fingertips against his temple. Of course he knew that, but he couldn't help picture the future that they could have. If only… if only he weren't a Jew.

"I know." He replied, turning back and closing the cover over the keys. "How about you, do you have a woman in mind yet?"

Henryk smiled, his eyes twinkling for just a second,

"You know me, I always have a woman in mind. It's just the commitment that I lack."

"Maybe that's a good thing."

Henryk perked his head up at this comment and then leaned forward in his chair.

"What do you mean?"

Wladek couldn't help it, the thought of ravaging a woman for a night sounded like a good idea. At least when it came to Dorota it did.

"Brother to brother," he began, speaking slightly softer so as his parents wouldn't overhear, "it sounds like a nice idea to have Dorota for a night and then leave to the ghetto. She would be better off, and I wouldn't be left wondering what it would be like."

He could tell that Henryk was feeling slightly uncomfortable of the subject matter, but it was obviously something that they could both relate to. Who knew if they would survive this war? They might as well discuss as much as possible in the time being.

"Then do it Wladek, take her out for dinner and seduce her. It should be easy for you, since you already seem to have her falling head over heels."

"But… I'm not that type of man."

Henryk nodded his head and then placed it in his hands, scratching his head once more.

"You're right. You're a better man than me."

"If you could only hear my thoughts Henryk." Wladek said with a chuckle. Henryk cracked a smile.

"We must be brothers after all." Henryk said, breaking out into a deep laughter. Wladek joined in, wiping the corners of his eyes where tears had slipped through.

"Be quiet down there!" a female voice shouted from up above. Both brothers became silent at once, holding back their laughter as best they could.

"I still say that you should seduce her. Except… in your own sort of way. Don't go into it thinking: "She will sleep with me tonight". Think… "We will fall in love tonight". She'll never be able to resist you brother, especially with your hands."

Wladek chuckled, holding his hands out in front of him. Long spidery fingers that girls used to find repulsive in elementary were now considered an asset in his adult life. How things changed.

He sighed, placing his hands back at his side. He felt like confessing in the midst of all of this already controversial talk.

"I've never slept with a woman."

Henryk made no movement, his eyes staring at the floor.

"I've figured as much," he replied in a surprisingly serious voice, "see, you are the better man Wladek."

"I'm the more foolish man if you ask me."

There was a silence once more, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable. It was pensive.

"Do you love her?"

"I think… I might."

"Then tell her. Start your life before it's too late."

"I'm afraid."

"Don't be, she won't reject you."

But rejection was the last thing on Wladek's mind. He was more afraid of what could happen. What if she became pregnant and he was put into a ghetto? She would be convicted of having relations with a Jew. She would be killed.

So as the two brothers said goodnight and Wladek lay in bed, he decided that he would not seduce Dorota. She would stay his friend, and nothing more.

The bed squeaked as he moved his hand beneath the covers, reaching his fingers out to grasp the heat that abode there.

He caressed himself like he imagined she would.

He imagined that his seduction had succeeded.

He made love to Dorota without the consequences.


End file.
